


Worship

by decaf_kitty



Category: Naruto
Genre: Begging, Explicit Sexual Content, Inappropriate Use of the Sharingan, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27733882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decaf_kitty/pseuds/decaf_kitty
Summary: Late at night, Kakashi and Iruka randomly meet at a ramen stand... One little conversation later, they're in Kakashi's bedroom, with Iruka on his knees, and a blushing Kakashi staring down at the sensei between his bare thighs.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 8
Kudos: 345





	Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holiday, honey. You deserve goodness in your life. I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think in the comments if you have a moment. I really do want to hear from you. Love you, miss you always. Please be safe out there.
> 
> _____

Keeping to himself, Kakashi wove through Konoha, hands deep in his pockets. Soon enough, he slumped down at Ichiraku’s on one of the stools. He liked this restaurant; it was a part of his history and routine, familiar and ritualistic. His headband hung heavy over the Sharingan. Physical pain and chakra exhaustion from the mission badly combined… the flak jacket seemed weighted, and the bandages around his leg, too tight. Kakashi went to wave at the cook when he heard a call of his name in a voice he knew, directly to his left, close against the wall.

It was Iruka Umino, who was simultaneously surprised and pleased to see him. They exchanged their usual greetings. At first, that was all Kakashi expected of the other nin. After all, it was their norm. Their once-odd relationship had evened out in the past few years: with Team Seven dispersed, in all its successes and disappointments, they had both returned to their usual roles around Konoha. Iruka had stayed a chūnin-sensei at the Academy, seemingly destined to rise through the school’s administration, while Kakashi was returned to relentless higher-ranked missions under the Lady Hokage. Their friendship almost entirely consisted of bumping into each other at the market or restaurants, updating each other on how things were going, and then each wandering off on their own way.

But this time proved to be different. 

After pulling out the stool beside him, Iruka smiled hopefully over at Kakashi. 

The unspoken offer to share a dinner together struck Kakashi as pleasant - and something well beyond their casual brief meetings. 

Hiding a bit of wonder at Iruka’s boldness, Kakashi scooted over several seats to sit next to him. The sensei had already eaten most of his ramen. They made a small bit of conversation as Kakashi waited for his, then there was surprisingly amiable silence when he ate and they drank.

As usual, he never showed his face by moving quickly through eating and drinking, but a stealthy glance revealed Iruka was closely examining his sake cup rather than sneaking looks.

Kakashi couldn’t help but smile a little, even though he hid that, too.

… Iruka-sensei was such a good guy.

After finishing their meals, both of them lingered, sipping sake and chatting about light things, at least light for shinobi.

Perhaps a half-hour or more into sitting together, Kakashi caught a glimpse of Iruka’s sentimental side, the one he most often showed his students and especially Naruto. Their banter had been building in that direction, but most shinobi would not have noticed or cared enough to mention anything, so Kakashi hadn’t considered restraining himself and putting up a full façade of ‘I feel great post-mission!’

Instead, the entire time that he’d been slouched on the stool, his shoulders were tense, tired, and imbalanced. Since using the Chidori earlier, his right arm had ached a bit, its chakra pathway burning, so that shoulder was up, with the left one lower down. By putting most of his weight on the counter, he was luckily able to enjoy spending time with Iruka, but he wasn’t sure how great of a drinking companion he was being tonight. 

Even through fatigue and sake, though, Kakashi recognized that Iruka was watching him far, far too carefully. His gaze turned serious at times, fond at others, sporadically both at the same time.

Finally, he lifted a lone silver eyebrow at the sensei, curious at the intense attention, but unable to ask aloud what it meant. 

Iruka smiled slightly back at him, his eyes creasing at the edges. “I see what you do for the village, Kakashi. I know you’ll be Hokage someday,” he explained warmly without the least amount of hero-worship. Compassion flowed through Iruka’s gaze, easy and genuine. “I worry for you… It doesn’t seem like you’re taking care of yourself. I don’t know. Maybe I’m seeing things...” Trailing off, Iruka scratched at his facial scar and looked away, embarrassed.

Kakashi’s pulse quickened even as he worked to keep his expression neutral. It felt as if Iruka knew him like an Academy scroll; it seemed like he might have read Kakashi’s diary. Uncertainty ate him hungrily: options raced through his mind, each warring for victory. Although Iruka had only ever fought him over students, shinobi could be cruel, and they could pull kunai and tricks from hidden places. However much Kakashi wanted to trust this particular sentimentality, instinct roughly pulled him away from Iruka, and he shrugged his shoulders, easing away from any admission.

Yet then Iruka glanced back at him, keeping his chin tilted down. Long dark eyelashes fanned across his brown skin. Differing emotions of concern and doubt troubled Iruka’s overly expressive face so captivatingly that it made Kakashi’s heart lodge right up into his throat. 

Instantly, Kakashi admitted, unable to look away, “No. You’re right. I’m having a rough time.”

Relief flooded the sensei’s expression for a passing second. Just as quickly, Iruka’s eyebrows knitted together, and he asked earnestly, “How can I help?” His gaze further sought out Kakashi’s, even though they were already looking at each other, trying to see deeper inside. 

Of course, Kakashi noticed that Iruka didn’t ask, ‘Can I help?’ which seemed very much like him. Tilting his head, silver hair spilling over his hitai-ate, he studied the other shinobi. What could the other man do? How to relieve the pressure of missions? How to deal with death upon death upon death? How to endure loneliness and long nights… 

_Hm._

Kakashi found his solitary eye wandering down Iruka’s clothed form before he quite understood his train of thought. He also asked his next question before he fully worked it through.

“What are you doing tonight?”

The first word out of Iruka’s mouth was clearly going to be “Nothing” but he only got “No-” before he cut himself off and suddenly straightened in his seat, finally catching Kakashi’s implication. The sensei’s scar darkened with a ruddy blush as he tried to read Kakashi’s languid expression. But Kakashi maintained an unreadable front: if he was about to be turned down, he would play it like it had never been suggested, or that they just had a simple misunderstanding.

Instead, Iruka surprised him. The sensei’s eyes were always a dark brown, but Kakashi watched them dilate with distinct interest in the proposition. An intriguing look crossed the man’s scarred face: it suggested great unspoken contemplation, and Kakashi felt childishly put out he wasn’t privy to such secret thoughts.

Finally, Iruka said, soft and true, “Whatever you need.”

So, Kakashi rolled back his own answer immediately, not letting himself overthink it.

“What do you suggest, sensei?” Iruka just stared at him. His blush worsened. Kakashi realized he wanted to tease the other man, and so he twisted a smile behind his mask. Propping up his arm on the counter and leaning into his palm, he asked with playful warmth in his voice, his grey eye half-lidded and intent on Iruka’s flushed face, “What would you do to me?”

He meant it that way, too. 

Not “for me” - but “to me.”

He knew Iruka was smart enough to hear the difference. The man was listening attentively; he was focused on their conversation like this was a life-or-death battle.

The dinner crowds outside chatted and laughed in late night revelry. Delicious smells of ramen continue to waft their way. Added to the air was the sizzle of meat on the grill and the conversation of other customers on the far side of the bar. 

Yet in Kakashi’s narrow view of the world, there was only Iruka Umino, turning over to study the ramen booth counter, thinking through his words like he was creating a new jutsu. 

Mild panic tugged on Kakashi and made him worry he had pushed the sensei too far. He could blame bad circumstances - maybe drunkenness? the sake was supernaturally strong? could he feign passing out? - but Iruka would remember, wouldn’t he? 

An ugly bit of anxiety abruptly caught Kakashi’s intestines, entangling them like loose ribbons and tying them together far too tight. All of a sudden, he felt delicate and dumb. He should not have admitted anything. He readied himself to stand up, stumble drunkenly, and fake-pass out in the sand in the next few seconds.

Then Iruka looked up and told him, “I’d worship you.”

Stupefied, Kakashi stared uselessly at the other man. His eye widened as if a larger view of Iruka would help him understand the response. Surprising sweet heat began to pool in his groin, recognizing the sensei’s sincerity… It was clear the man was truthfully confessing what he wanted to do to Kakashi.

But Iruka wasn’t done. He was a teacher: he liked clarity. Leaning closer, Iruka’s dark eyes stayed stable and sure on Kakashi’s only visible one, even as his blush deepened and his breath hitched. His hand spread wide over the counter - Kakashi saw it in his peripheral vision and thought rapidly of where else Iruka’s palm could be, where else he could spread his…

“I’d strip you bare, I’d touch your deepest parts.”

All the blood in Kakashi’s body recirculated to his cock. 

Normally, he’d be appalled by someone saying they wanted to see him naked. Although amusement filled him during attempts to remove his mask, that was only because no one could ever actually do it without his consent. Ever since he was young, he’d always been peculiar about showing skin. Of course, people had seen parts of him, with and without his permission – such as medical-nin, vicious opponents, and Maito Gai – but very few had seen him entirely nude.

It had been a long, long time since anyone had seen him.

But tonight… he and Iruka… no mask, no clothes… no jutsu between them…

His whole worldview suddenly spun, hot and wild, incredible and out of his control.

Unfortunately, Iruka thought the pause wasn’t about Kakashi’s shock, but teasing him for more dirty confessions, so the sensei nervously curled his hand on the counter and promised in a near-whisper, his voice strong and steady: “I won’t hurt you. Unless you like that.” 

Kakashi stiffened all over, caught between boiling hot arousal and stunned confusion, which Iruka noticed but only took as further motivation, leaning even more towards him.

Staring straight at him, the sensei added, low, hoarse, sounding as tight as Kakashi’s pants, “I’d spread you open and revere you. I’d kiss away your tears. I’d beg you to come for me.”

It was excruciatingly clear that Iruka would keep making sinful promises until Kakashi broke, which happened with that final line, those deadly words about _Iruka begging._ Keeping himself forcefully contained, Kakashi partially lifted his hand off his knee, stopping the man with a wave of his half-gloved fingers. Cheeks warm under his mask, he glanced away from the sensei to signal the ramen cook. 

As payment swapped hands, Kakashi refused to look back at Iruka, who slunk back against the wall and stayed still. 

Silence overwhelmed their side of the ramen stand. 

Hot blood poured through Kakashi’s veins. It roared in his ears, especially the one trapped by his headband. The beating of his heart seemed louder than the crowds outside, deafening him and dulling the rest of his senses.

Iruka would beg to see _Kakashi_ come?

He’d never dreamed of Iruka begging, but Kakashi’s imagination was active and so very lewd. 

While handing off money to the chef, a dreamed-up breathy whisper drifted through his brain using Iruka’s voice:

“Kakashi, please, come for me - I can feel you getting there, just a little more, you like that?” Still sitting at the ramen stand, Kakashi’s pants tightened, and his throat constricted. His imagination liked this, a lot, and it continued on ruthlessly, thrilled with the fantasy and wanting to see it through. “Right there? Yeah? That’s it? _Oh._ Oh, yes. Come, Kakashi, please, you – nngh, you, look at you - I’ll do anything, Kakashi - just let me see you _come.”_

Mm. Yes, that’s just what he wanted. Yes. Tonight. He and Iruka. Yes.

The transaction done, he glanced over at the sensei. The man had his gaze down in the dirt, cast away from everything. He looked more than a bit mortified with himself.

As Kakashi stood, he adjusted himself with ANBU-level speed, not wanting his arousal seen. The touch was too satisfying, though, sending a jolt up his spine. He really didn’t fool around too much with himself, even if people thought him the greatest pervert in the village next to Jiraiya. Laziness was more his style, then foreboding loneliness, leaving very little time for love. 

He tapped Iruka’s shoulder with two fingers, already moving out into the street. “C’mon,” he said, looking back at the other man, who was staring at him again. “We’ll go to my place.”

Kakashi was privately relieved to hear his voice was normal. He started walking, assuming Iruka would follow. He assumed correctly: the sensei showed up at his side a moment later like they were close companions, and this was a regular night for them. It was not. It was very much not. They had never hung out after a random meeting at a restaurant, not once in the many years they’d known each other. 

And never had Iruka suggested anything sexual towards him…

Keeping at easy pace, Kakashi shot a glance over at the sensei. Unexpectedly, Iruka was already looking at him, so their gazes met straightaway. On any other occasion, it would have just surprised Kakashi, and he would have made a passing joke, like ‘is something on my face?’ 

But, now, after Iruka’s promises, burning heat rushed up Kakashi’s body. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to hear Iruka _beg_ as he studied the man’s scar, his dark eyes, the curve of his cheek, his high ponytail…

The man suddenly blushed while looking at him.

Kakashi almost stumbled in stride. 

Was… Iruka thinking about him? In that way? Again? Right now?

He turned his head and walked quicker. Without saying a word, Iruka matched him. They were both just a little too hurried for an easygoing night out, but Kakashi couldn’t care less about anyone noticing. He always attracted attention in Konoha. Plus, since so many people knew and fancied Iruka, everyone seemed to greet the sensei, and he waved back to each of them. Still, neither of them slowed down to be less noticeable. They power-walked through the streets.

Night-time rendezvous might have been common for other shinobi, but they had never happened for Kakashi Hatake. He literally had never done it nor never pictured it. His visual fantasies rocketed right to kinky, but, most importantly, they never included him. Perhaps it was a quirk of the Sharingan – but how would he know? Itachi was Akatsuki, and Sasuke… Well. His rich inner life spun other-oriented, rarely featuring himself; only very occasionally would he appear, typically as a voyeur.

That made sense. He liked watching.

Kakashi swallowed thickly as he opened the apartment door. Gesturing Iruka inside, politeness seemed irrational considering the sensei’s proposal, but he behaved out of habit and instinct. 

Still, the number of guests in his home was very few, nearly the same who had seen him nude. What was the correct etiquette for a one-night stand? Was there such a thing as hospitality in this sort of situation? Would Iruka care? Concern seemed to be smothering Kakashi, taking away heat and arousal. Distress wormed its way into his heart as he watched the sensei step into the living room. He lacked sharpened recognition of social cues, he knew that. 

Could he ruin this?

Iruka looked back at him.

All thoughts scattered from Kakashi’s mind.

He trailed after the sensei like a lost lamb. Obeying an unspoken order, Kakashi stopped in front of the other man, unable to think of anything except –

_Iruka._

The man was slightly shorter than him, just an inch or two. Yet that was enough for those dark eyes to peer up through long lashes, a heated gaze to sear through Kakashi like a burning spear. They weren’t even touching, but he felt stuck in place, standing as still as on a S-ranked mission. The two of them stared at each other, each speechless, neither certain just what to do next.

But this was an obvious step to something different between them. 

In all the years they’d known each other, Iruka had never been inside Kakashi’s apartment. But right now the man wasn’t looking anywhere except Kakashi. And, most astonishingly, he was doing so with incredible intention and intensity. He didn’t care about scanning his environment for traps or memorizing the room for later blackmail. He literally only had eyes for Kakashi.

It was _very_ flattering. 

Most shinobi were intimidated by him or underestimated him. But Iruka’s dark eyes looked up into Kakashi’s grey one so honestly, it bordered on agony. Before he knew what he was doing, Kakashi found himself pulling off his headband and dropping it to the ground. True to his devotion, Iruka didn’t follow the motion at all. Instead, his whole face, lovely and scarred, brightened as Kakashi flexed open the Sharingan and looked down at him with both eyes.

Off to his left, Iruka’s hand floated upward and hovered close to Kakashi’s cheek. The movement seemed nearly dance-like it was so graceful and thoughtful. Feeling strangely intimidated, Kakashi glanced towards Iruka’s fingers and inspected their calloused edges. As he drew back his gaze, he understood instinctively what the sensei was waiting for: permission.

A very small nod – that was all he could give.

Yet if he expected Iruka to move swiftly, he’d have been terribly wrong. The man instead was achingly slow, approaching Kakashi’s scarred cheek like he was a wounded street animal. Even though Kakashi was certain he wasn’t baring teeth in fear or snarling with raised hackles, perhaps Iruka was better reading his body language than what he himself could recognize. 

Surprise struck him hard as Iruka touched his bare cheek right above his mask-line. 

He nearly jumped, but shinobi training saved him such embarrassment. 

Still, both of Kakashi’s eyes widened, which Iruka saw well enough but kindly did not comment on. Staying quiet, the sensei slowly traced the space directly above Kakashi’s mask. Starting at the silver hair at his left temple, Iruka moved across Kakashi’s face to the other far side with one fingertip, inspiring a tingly nervy feeling with the gentle touch.

It was maddeningly upsetting, and Kakashi thought he might spontaneously combust. 

As he watched Iruka complete the line, he suddenly noticed the blush return to the sensei’s cheeks and fully flood the man’s horizontal scar. As a shinobi with his own prominent facial scar, Kakashi had always appreciated Iruka’s, but today, tonight, he was relishing the sight of it.

Thinking very little more, Kakashi swiftly brought his hand to Iruka’s face and thumbed the very edge of that fascinating scar, the one whose origins he’d never quite understood.

Apparently, that was not what Iruka expected, because the man’s lips parted, and his eyes creased in confused surprise, and then he put his whole hand over Kakashi’s scarred cheek.

The very action startled Kakashi so badly that he dropped his hand instantly. He went back to staring hopelessly, jolted back into standing shocked into stillness. The Sharingan whirled in agitation, thinking that perhaps this was an upcoming battle or something similar, when it was –

When it was just Iruka touching his face.

But fuck, Iruka wasn’t just touching his face. He was looking at Kakashi with the same devotion that ANBU felt for Konoha while dying for the village, the same dedication the Hokage showed while donning the white-and-red robes for the first and last time, the same loyalty that lovers displayed for each other after their first night together, their thousandth night together, and their final night together.

It abruptly occurred to Kakashi that Iruka would never pull down his mask. The man was too kind. He was assertive, appallingly so, but he was courteous about certain boundaries. Hurting Kakashi really would not occur to him: clearly, Iruka would not do it, nor would he endure it.

So Kakashi did it.

He reached up his left hand, opposite to Iruka’s, and hooked two fingers into the cloth. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure how the other man would respond: hope made him stupid and blissed out his expectations, raising them both far too high and down cavernously low. As Kakashi tugged down his mask, Iruka pulled back his arm, both his shoulders visibly trembling.

_Ah. He’s nervous._

_Like me._

Swallowing tension, Kakashi pooled the cloth of his mask under his chin at his throat. He felt terribly bashful glancing down Iruka’s figure, unsure of what the man’s expression might be and not certain he wanted to know right away. Of the people who’d seen his bare face, almost all of them were now dead, and the rest were medical-nin he’d sworn to secrecy at kunai-point. 

Iruka was the only person still alive to see him unmasked and without wounds.

“Oh, _Kakashi,”_ breathed the sensei so softly that it sighed through the air. He snapped up to look at Iruka and found the man utterly captivated by his face – which made Kakashi immediately blush, heat filling out his exposed cheeks. The flush provoked Iruka even further, lighting up his scarred expression and widening his smile even more. The chūnin looked nearly childish in his joy – wait, were those tears in his gorgeous dark eyes? 

And, although Iruka didn’t seem like the kind of guy to get physically rough, he apparently would emotionally manipulate Kakashi without shame, because suddenly he poured up the most adoring look at him, glossy-eyed and blushing, and pled in a softly demanding voice that made Kakashi’s knees buckle, “Can we go to your bedroom now?”

“Yes,” Kakashi answered instantly, unable to stop himself. He pivoted and headed there like he’d been sent on an assassination mission that needed to be completed in the next minute. 

Of course Iruka followed him, but he didn’t think what the other man might want to do. When he turned around to check, he saw Iruka had somehow stealthed behind him, and, startled and distracted, Kakashi backed into the bed. Far too alluringly, Iruka kept close, spread his hand across Kakashi’s flak jacket, and pushed with a controlled strength closely similar to a kitten’s. In the wordless exchange, the option was left to Kakashi: he could keep standing or he could lay down.

Instantly, Kakashi made his choice: he dropped down to sit on the bed. He wasn’t sure where Iruka would go, if the man would follow him and land atop him like a heavy weighted blanket. Fear flashed through him as he considered someone holding him down – Kakashi hadn’t experienced that before, and he was realizing abruptly - oh, he never wanted to experience that, not with anyone. 

But he had nothing to worry about. 

With apparent calm, Iruka kneeled on the floor. He situated between Kakashi’s legs as if he perfectly belonged there. The ease of the man’s motion alarmed Kakashi: was Iruka more accustomed to these sorts of affairs? He wouldn’t have expected that… but, then again, all shinobi had secrets. Iruka’s sweet demeanor often dissolved in stormy bouts with students; his kindness had thinned before Kakashi at the chūnin trials. So… So…?

Fortunately, Kakashi’s trained instincts alerted him to Iruka’s shaking shoulders.

_Oh. He’s still nervous. He’s… really nervous, actually._

All of a sudden, the reason for Iruka’s anxiety emerged. They’d each politely removed their shoes at the door, but both still wore the Konoha-standard bandages wrapped around ankles. Every morning when Kakashi dressed himself, he repeated the same pattern he’d used since childhood, on both ankles and his right leg, just like his father had shown him. Most Konoha shinobi did the same; Iruka clearly operated with the same diligence, seeing his bandages tonight.

Right now Iruka was undoing Kakashi’s cotton bindings.

It was almost too much. 

The instinct to withdraw his leg from Iruka’s palm had to be crushed like an enemy shinobi. Even though it was still stinging from the mission, the Sharingan answered his shock and dismay with wartime readiness. Yet Kakashi wasn’t opposed to how the dōjutsu whirled madly, memorizing the vision of Iruka Umino on his knees and carefully unwrapping the tight white cotton straps around Kakashi’s ankles. Silence reigned in his bedroom throughout the process. Gentleness defined Iruka’s flowing movements, followed by visible nervousness, his fingers trembling on the bandages as he pulled them free. Perhaps the sensei’s worry explained why he couldn’t seem to look up at Kakashi. His concentration bordered on religious ritual, reminding Kakashi of a tea ceremony, and naturally he felt compelled not to interrupt.

Instead he did his favorite thing. 

Kakashi watched.

Fuck if Iruka was not the most beautiful thing he’d seen in a long while. The man radiated devotion, but not the kind where he was self-assured and cocky about it. In contrast, the sensei’s determination was the sort where Iruka kept trying, working, and striving, no matter what obstacles were in his way. 

As the sensei lowered Kakashi’s foot to the ground and he turned to the other leg, he slid his hand up Kakashi’s still-clothed shin for just a fleeting moment. Starting from the small spot he’d touched, the most wonderful shiver flew up through Kakashi, like an electric pulse with more fiery warmth behind it. Kakashi stiffened immediately, blinking a few times in a row, trying to process the familiar feeling of sudden pleasure. … he’d gotten aroused just by Iruka touching his lower leg above his pants? Was it because the man was acting so submissive and sweet to him? Was it because this night was so unusual and unexpected, and he wanted it so badly? 

Would Iruka beg him soon?

… would he beg Iruka?

Below him, Iruka didn’t seem to notice he’d caused any reaction; he resumed his ritual of unravelling Kakashi’s bandages with the same respectful religiosity. Now, however, his movements were noticeably quicker. Kakashi felt much more fixated than before. He wanted to see if Iruka would touch him again, not just in this unwrapping ceremony, but how he had just…

Suddenly Iruka looked up at him.

Kakashi stared back, both eyes wide.

Both his ankles were bare, he realized. Just then, Iruka’s palm caressed over his ankle, his skin against Kakashi’s, while the sensei held his gaze, very careful, trying to see if what he was doing was okay. 

Iruka’s simple touch was hotly affecting Kakashi, which was almost absurdly stupid, because it was just a man’s palm on his ankle where his bandages normally protected bone, but Kakashi noticed his whole body was as tense as an ANBU shielding the Hokage from assassination, and Iruka was staring at him like he was afraid that Kakashi might shatter into a thousand million glass shards.

Trying to relax, he exhaled through his nose, but the action made him shake, and then he couldn’t stop, and he was clenching the bedsheets at both his sides and swallowing hard. 

Ever the sinister but delightful slayer of men, Iruka slipped his hand into Kakashi’s leg pants leg, under the blue cloth, and ran along the curve of his calf muscle, all while observing him.

_Oh, he likes watching too..?_

Orange-red fire felt like it was embracing Kakashi’s face. He could not tear his gaze, Sharingan and his own eye, away from Iruka’s expression of focused devotion directed up towards him.

Their shinobi blues were loose enough that Iruka could navigate his arm up past Kakashi’s knee – and he touched the beginning of Kakashi’s thigh – and that was just the spot that sent Kakashi into skittering arousal-panic. He heard himself before he understood himself. At first, the sound of a sharp inhale was foreign to his ears, especially without his headband blocking things. 

But then Kakashi understood alarm had turned over his instincts so severely - that he’d gasped.

Iruka stopped instantly, but his hand stayed in place, there on Kakashi’s bare thigh.

His eyes seemed to shine.

Iruka’s voice was low as he asked, hope in each word, “Kakashi… can I touch you more?”

Even if rational part of his brain declared quite firmly, no no no, Kakashi not only nodded, but he also adjusted on the bed in such a way that Iruka sat backwards and waited patiently at his feet. Unreasonable behavior was a requirement for jōnin, and a necessary part of survival for any shinobi such as himself, but he couldn’t really quite track what he was doing as he suddenly unclipped his kunai pouch at his waist, collected one in his hand, sliced open his right thigh bandages, shoved those and the pouch aside, and then unzipped his flak jacket and put that away, too. 

In complete reverence, Iruka watched like he was trying to learn something at the Academy.

Mouth dry as a desert, Kakashi looked down at him, said ‘fuck it’ to himself internally, and then shimmied out of his pants, dropping them with the rest of his gear off on the side of the bed.

Now bare-faced, bare-ankled, and bare-legged, in his boxers and long-sleeved shirt, he wasn’t at all sure what Iruka would do. The sensei had made sinful promises at the ramen stand, but promises were frequently broken by the most well-meaning people, so… well…

Kakashi waited with his heart racing.

Iruka’s brown skin burned with a red blush. He looked like he suddenly lost control of his breathing all at once – perhaps he had? Maybe he’d been using a teacher technique to keep calm? Surely his composure hadn’t been that much of a deception… but then again, looking at Iruka now, the sensei’s flush went down into his high blue turtleneck and his nervous shake seemed like a sincere problem, one that in combat might cost him his life. Again, it was very flattering to have such an effect on another person, but Kakashi was terribly curious if the man would actually –

Would Iruka say something! Please!

As if the sensei heard Kakashi’s silent plea, Iruka balled his fists on his knees, controlled his tremor, and forced through his breathlessness to say, “You’re beautiful. It’s difficult to take in.”

Shoulders tense, body coiled tight, Kakashi found himself staring down at the other man. He felt damnably exposed, and he needed confirmation that he existed, but fuck, that was not how he imagined Iruka would respond to his body. A quick glance down at his legs proved they were the same as always: ghostly white skin never exposed to sunlight, full of scars small and large. Training as hard and as many years as he had, of course his muscles were defined, but they were lean, nothing as impressive as Maito Gai’s physique, which stood out in green spandex.

Still, Iruka looked like he might suffer a nosebleed in Kakashi’s bedroom.

Although he wasn’t certain what to say, after a moment he replied, “Thank you.” It was enough for Iruka, who took the two words as permission to start moving again, something immediately obvious, because –

The sensei sat up on his knees and stretched out his palm across the inside of Kakashi’s thigh. 

While not a jōnin or ANBU, a chūnin-sensei worked out ridiculously hard in his career, so Iruka’s skin bore endless callouses and scars, all of which Kakashi felt like canyons and craters across a flat landscape. 

As his grey eye widened as big as a saucer, the Sharingan spun as fast as it could, capturing everything occurring below him, on the assumption Kakashi was on the cusp of fainting or dying based on his spiking adrenaline and doubling heart rate. He felt his fingernails cut through the sheets and into his own palm as he stared, dumbstruck and awestruck, at Iruka gently spreading apart his legs and learning the insides of his thigh by touch. 

Fuck the man was bold. Fuck! 

Between the Sharingan dizzily not comprehending the situation, and earlier experiences of murderous shinobi aiming for the same spot that Iruka was now caressing, Kakashi felt blood brawling for different positions in his body – some aiming for his brain, to save his life, and the rest, to his cock, because fuck, this was good, this was really good, having a man kneeling between his thighs, so sweet and easy, touching him in such an off-limits vulnerable spot.

Still. It was a vulnerable spot. For a second, Kakashi wondered if Iruka was an assassin.

Iruka noticed the issue, too: he obviously knew his hand was over an important artery. Instead of jabbing it like a forceful idiot, the sensei pushed down the center of his palm over Kakashi’s femoral artery, the vein pumping blood at a fantastic pace through a poor conflicted body. 

With his dark eyes worried, his scarred expression thoughtful, Iruka looked up at him and asked in a cautious whisper, “Are you thinking about all the ways I could kill you?”

Kakashi froze, or rather, he tried to freeze. He ended up trembling, which Iruka felt quite finely, being now very close to him, with his hand on Kakashi’s thigh. With pink in his cheeks, his Sharingan going wild, Kakashi could only muster enough strength to nod slightly – very, very slightly. 

Slowly bowing his head down, Iruka pressed a truly subtle, nearly unfelt kiss on Kakashi’s knee, and then, between one breath and the next, he made a vow with his shinobi fire lighting his words, “Kakashi, even if the Hokage gave me the order, I would never kill you.”

Not could not. It wasn’t about skills. _Would never._ Iruka would disobey orders. For Kakashi.

It was as if a genjutsu was cast – it was as if time stopped. 

He saw Iruka’s lips near his thigh, he heard the sensei say such astonishing words. His mission-weary mind tried to piece together the puzzle, and yet Kakashi could only see Iruka’s blush, his long scar, his dark eyes, his expressive face, his devotion on full display. For some reason, well beyond his understanding of reality, he overlooked all the myriad options in the world, and chose the one that would most immediately satisfy something he’d thought about for years.

Already leaning down, Kakashi ordered “Take off your shirt” in a voice that sounded as desperate as he felt, and shockingly, Iruka was rapidly willing to comply to him. Of course, he had to remove his flak jacket first, a time-consuming task that seemed to bother them both, but fortunately, that was soon gone, piling atop Kakashi’s in an act all too intimate for shinobi. As Iruka wrenched his blue turtleneck over his head, the rough action messed up his ponytail, but Kakashi discovered he liked the disheveled look on Iruka and shook his head disapprovingly when Iruka tried to fix it out of impulse. The sensei dropped his hands away and waited to learn the reason Kakashi so clearly wanted with him shirtless – which happened right away.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Kakashi brought both his hands down onto Iruka’s bare shoulders and pulled the man towards his chest - with his one and only intention to study the sensei’s back.

Ah. Iruka Umino’s scar. 

It was won in battle so many years ago while saving Naruto Uzumaki... Minato-sensei’s son. Certainly Iruka did not need to save his young student from death, but he had in such a reckless but passionate show of strength. A sacrificial shinobi, just the sort that Konoha needed. Kakashi would do that one day, too, almost certainly, perhaps a few times. Only with a sensei like Iruka Umino could Naruto have succeeded even as far as he already had – and whatever happened in the future was due, in no small part, to this man, to this scar. 

Truly amazing. 

Thrilled to finally see it, Kakashi dipped his fingertips into the back scar’s sunken tissue while staring over Iruka’s shoulder. The skin there was more fragile, like his own scars, but Iruka’s color was more brown-hued than his, and his wounds healed even darker. The shuriken that he took for Naruto had been massive, or so Kakashi had been told; it nearly punctured Iruka’s spine and had pierced the nearby muscle. The healing jutsu had been delayed, and his recovery long, so the resulting mark was wicked in appearance. 

Many years later, it was love at first sight for Kakashi, who touched every centimeter of the scar now that he had access to the old exalted wound.

Enthralled, he murmured in a pleased tone, still caressing the back scar’s edges, “So that’s how it healed.”

With his face nearly pressed against Kakashi’s shirt, Iruka’s voice came out muffled, but he was still very clear as he asked, sounding both pained and strained, “Kakashi, can I please kiss you?”

Kakashi slowly looked from the scar captivating him up to Iruka’s messy ponytail, almost unable to understand the question. The Sharingan twitched angrily, and so he shut his eyelid, trying to contain its escalating soreness. As he carefully pulled backwards, he considered Iruka’s body language, suddenly noticing the man had seemingly solidified into stone since Kakashi had asked him – demanded? – to remove his shirt and then had touched his back scar so deeply. 

When he met Iruka’s gaze again, it dawned upon him, _Oh. I might have pushed him a little bit._

The sensei was fully red in the face, his scar a long dark line across scarlet. His eyes scorched fiery black as he stared at Kakashi with patience on the edge of breaking apart. Intensity had an incarnation, and it was Iruka Umino on his knees between Kakashi’s almost entirely bare thighs.

Struck by such a sight, Kakashi didn’t manage to respond – not at all, actually. He just sat still on the edge of the bed, newly gripping the sheets, suddenly remembering Iruka’s many promises.

Apparently Iruka had good recall, too, because he skipped the kiss and went straight for Kakashi’s cloth-covered cock.

The very undignified sound that escaped Kakashi’s throat probably should have ashamed him, but he was instantly occupied instead with Iruka rubbing his beautiful fucking face, scarred and flushed, against Kakashi’s fucking fully erect cock! When the fuck had _that_ happened! Had he been hard the whole time and just not noticed?? He had been so wildly distracted by Iruka? But, of course, Iruka was the reason he was so hard, wasn’t he? – oh, he was, he was, he was.

He stared like a total idiot down at his lap, trying to understand, but his brain malfunctioned like a processing horror-show. Understanding drunkenly danced about his skull with sexual delight, so Kakashi just watched, wide-eyed, as Iruka nosed the full length of his cock through his boxers, all while smoothing wonderfully calloused hands against Kakashi’s sharp hipbones.

Then, just as swift as he had undressed, Iruka hooked his fingers on Kakashi’s boxers and gazed upwards with reverential hope – a true supplicant on his knees, hoping for divine intervention.

_He… wants them off… so he can..._

Swallowing down anxiety, Kakashi deftly moved backwards on the bed, removing the last layer between his sex and Iruka, and returned into the man’s reach. Discomfort demanded he keep on his shirt, and the sensei didn’t seem to mind it, as he himself was still wearing his pants and bandages with no movement to disrobe. They were shinobi, after all, so some defenses stayed.

Still, the view of his reddened cock, all almost seven inches of it, near Iruka Umino’s face –

_Fuck. That’s unexpectedly hot._

Apparently Iruka quite liked it, too, because his expression brightened the same way as it had when seeing Kakashi’s bare face for the first time, before melting into something more lustful. His dark eyes soon went half-lidded. Looking down Kakashi’s bare cock stiff up against his silver pubic hair, Iruka wet his lips… which Kakashi found far too lovely a motion not to obsess over. 

He still tensed when Iruka gently wrapped his hand around the base of Kakashi’s cock. But he got over that real quick when the man leaned down. His pretty pink tongue licked one long line to the tip all while looking up at Kakashi, keeping the most outrageously powerful eye contact.

Self-control seemed impossible to master in these circumstances, so Kakashi tried not at all. Reaching down without caution, he started to touch Iruka’s face, but then he noticed he was wearing his gloves, which he suddenly loathed, so he removed them like they were rotten trash. As he returned to Iruka’s cheek, Kakashi saw how his bare hand, pale, trembled while he stroked the farthest edge of the sensei’s facial scar. Concentrating on Iruka’s face was immensely helpful, because the man was doing downright obscene things to his cock, while also holding him tight at the base and his hipbone, too - almost warmly enveloping him.

Within the first few seconds of Iruka’s tongue laving against him, Kakashi felt the painfully exciting terrifying urge to come – but fuck no, fuck no! - he would not do that! _not yet!_

His fingers dropped down and traced the corner of Iruka’s lips, much to the sensei’s immediate delight. All of a sudden, Iruka pulled off his cock, which he hadn’t actually fully put in his mouth yet… and instead, he ran his hot tongue against Kakashi’s two longest fingers, again, as always, while looking directly at Kakashi. Of course fearlessness proved to be the façade – an obvious thing, because Iruka’s bare brown chest was heaving desperately, needing oxygen badly to maintain his strength. Fuck if Kakashi couldn’t feel his body aching the same way, especially as he pressed down his fingers against Iruka’s tongue. The man’s dark eyes fluttered at the force, but he submitted easily, accepting Kakashi deeply into his mouth without protest. 

Discovering some cruel side of himself, Kakashi didn’t even hesitate before taking advantage: he stayed there, running his fingers hard against Iruka’s tongue, far into his mouth, making the man take him again and again. Watching Iruka’s body twist in growing longing arousal – watching Iruka’s struggling chest rise and fall – watching Iruka’s blush deepen – ah, fuck – it was so, so good. Before etiquette or logic intercepted him, Kakashi heard himself give a command. The tone of his voice fell somewhere between an ANBU superior declaring mission details and a lover trying to tempt their reluctant partner into doing something kinky and new in the bedroom. It wobbled at the end all weird, but still, his words were firm, and he said it with determination.

“Slow down. You’re very good. I want to enjoy this.”

In response to such praise, Iruka went slack jawed; Kakashi blushed so hard that he saw stars. 

He pulled away his fingers, wiping them dry on the bedsheets, and resolutely ignored his saliva-slick cock visibly hoping to soon again receive attention. The following few moments while Iruka seemed so astonished by the compliment made Kakashi almost regret his words – but then again, he secretly relished the pleased look flooding the sensei’s scarred face, still so flushed. It seemed like Iruka had never been praised ever before in his entire life until tonight. 

As Iruka peered up at Kakashi, such a rosy grateful gaze was one for the ages, and it seemed so natural to flex open the Sharingan to memorize Iruka Umino in this moment.

Beautiful. The man was beautiful.

And also very bold! _Too bold!_ **Fuck!**

Iruka went right back to Kakashi’s cock less than a second later, palm on the middle, hot mouth down to meet his fingers, and then he was moving fast, very fast, and Kakashi was insanely ashamed at how loud he became. Humiliation might have been his main feeling, except Iruka was truly brilliant at blowjobs, and he himself was a frightfully sensitive person, so Kakashi scratched his bedsheets, gasped out loud, squeezed his eyes shut, and panted uncontrollably as Iruka sucked his cock and jerked him off at the same time with total reckless abandon.

For a split second, he caught a glimpse of movement beyond Iruka’s gorgeous godliness – and new hot pleasure blew through him like an all-encompassing fire jutsu – and he gasped out, barely recognizing his voice and how hoarse it had become, “Are you touching yourself?”

Below him, the sensei didn’t stop stroking either of their wet cocks, and instead only popped his mouth off the top of Kakashi’s, so to ask in a sweet dark saccharine tone, “Should I stop?”

 _Fuck, that’s hot, Iruka, you’re so_ – An exhilarated smile broke over Kakashi’s face, and his half-lidded grey eye fixed on Iruka’s dark gaze. Feeling dangerous and electrified, he replied, “No.”

With a truly spellbinding smile, Iruka adjusted his hips, showing he’d undone his pants, had lowered his boxers, and been jerking off, and fuck, Kakashi loved the briefest flash of the man’s hard cock. His silver eyebrows arched, and he must have bitten at his lower lip, because Iruka’s sharp eyes dropped to Kakashi’s mouth with a steely focus usually reserved for frontline of war. 

Suddenly, the sensei lifted up more on his knees, dropping Kakashi’s cock down his more relaxed throat, renewing his grip using all the wet saliva to keep stroking him harder and tighter. The change in position allowed Kakashi to see Iruka’s magnificent back scar, which was just too fucking much, especially with the line of muscular body working so hard to please him, and the man clearly jerking himself off, too, shameless and determined and slutty and so so so beautiful.

Without thinking, he buried his fingers in Iruka’s mostly-bound dark hair as attempted warning. 

It was just enough to let Iruka know. The man removed his lips from Kakashi’s cock and forcefully found Kakashi’s shaky grey eye through their rising wild pleasure. Then, still stroking them both, sounding so desperate, he _begged,_ nearly anguished, “Please. _Please, for me.”_

Oh, Fuck Yeah. 

_For Iruka. Yes._

So, in an awful sweet delicious way, he came all across Iruka’s throat and chest. The man seemed to enjoy it terribly, cascading along with Kakashi’s shudders like ocean waves. White come dripped down on that brown skin so damn prettily. Ecstasy swiftly edged over into sensitivity, and Kakashi scrambled one of his hands from the sheets up onto Iruka’s shoulders, unable to handle Iruka still touching him past his peak. Almost as soon as contact occurred, an unpredicted storm of desire exploded, different yet somehow so much finer than what he’d just physically experienced – and fuck, that was so fucking good – so what the fuck was that –

He reopened his eye and the Sharingan, and Kakashi saw that in the fading of his riotous pleasure, he’d tightly grabbed Iruka’s bicep, the disparity of slender white against muscular brown.

Suddenly cruelty seemed sweet, so he mirrored the move on Iruka’s other arm and then forced the man down onto the ground, flat on his back, shielding that sacrificial scar. The rough action knocked the breath out of the sensei, who stared up at him in delight, shock, and disbelief. 

Iruka hit the ground with a thud. But the man’s attention stayed on Kakashi, obsessively watching his expression through the taijutsu. His hands had relocated almost instantly to Kakashi’s shirt, not to stop him, but to hold onto him. Just as swiftly, Kakashi balanced himself up above the other man, reached down into Iruka’s pants, past his boxers, and encircled that lovely cock so wet and hard for him. Embarrassingly still panting a little, he held himself up and proceeded to watch Iruka writhe on the floor with diminishing loss of control as he stroked the man hard and fast. His own limp cock stirred traitorously at the sight of Iruka suddenly desperate for it. 

Clearly joyfully trapped, his scarred expression scorching, Iruka rocked his hips into Kakashi’s fist, over and over. The sensei’s dark eyes creased urgently, and he parted his lips, unable to say what he wanted aloud. The visual was fucking captivating. Although the Sharingan ached like a bitch, Kakashi didn’t close it. Instead he fiercely memorized Iruka Umino climbing to his climax like they were about to die together in a tornado of shuriken and sharp knives. 

Tightening on the very top of Iruka’s cock, Kakashi stopped abruptly and held there. He now could hear both of them breathing like madmen, and so could Iruka, but the sensei was more preoccupied with panicking on the bedroom floor and grasping thoughtlessly at Kakashi’s shirt. 

Sadism shadow-flew up into Kakashi’s eyes. 

He stared down and whispered, “Beg me, Iruka.”

_… too much?_

But no – just enough. The man understood. His anxiety fell away; he stopped squirming. His head tilted, his ponytail crushed aside. Then, suddenly, Iruka pulled himself upward with impressive core strength, and the sensei pressed up against Kakashi, the most intimate they had been since Kakashi examined his back scar, and their bodies warmly interwove together.

Ghosting by Kakashi’s ear, the one by the Sharingan and scar, Iruka pled softly, his voice as soft as feathers, in a pitiful way perversely unlike him, “Do it, Kakashi. Make me come.” 

The begging sent shivers through Kakashi’s sensitive body and rippled right through his soul. He slanted a slow, startled look at Iruka, who turned at the same time to meet the Sharingan. 

Their body heat had combined in the new lotus position, but their shared gaze _burned_ Kakashi and that begging _branded him for life as Iruka’s._

But fuck if Iruka wasn’t done with him.

While keeping Kakashi in his lap, holding his waist, the sensei moved his head and aligned their faces, matching their scars like a star. Absolutely astounded, he kept still, but Iruka brushed his nose against Kakashi’s in an intimate sort-of kiss, and Kakashi’s heart fluttered wildly in response. Sliding his arms over Kakashi’s shoulders, Iruka gazed through loose dark hairs fallen from his ponytail into Kakashi’s eyes and then whispered against Kakashi’s lips, breathy and begging, “Help me…?” before he smiled ever so sly and slow.

Predatory instinct took over with wild violence. Although Kakashi didn’t think himself a bad person, he truly felt feral as he shoved Iruka off of him and preyed upon him voraciously. He’d never been this rough before – he didn’t think he could be this rough – but fuck, he wanted Iruka to come harder than he’d ever in his life. Dropping all his defenses, Iruka’s head tipped back, baring his throat, as he moaned loudly. With the Sharingan spinning furious, Kakashi worshipped the vulnerable man in his hands spread underneath him, and he rewarded him viciously.

Using the Sharingan ever so illicitly, Kakashi mimicked what he’d seen Iruka doing to himself just a few minutes earlier. He could tell Iruka liked the switch; the sensei’s hips jumped, and his expression, once perpetually rising in tormented pleasure, finally broke into amazing relief. 

The same second he closed his eyes, Iruka came hard across his bare abdomen. Drawing his fingers along the floor, the sensei weakly tried to catch his breath, but he just panted instead. In a truly unguarded and thus very charming motion, Iruka dropped his head off to the right, showing his beautiful scar and the long line of his throat, still dotted with Kakashi’s wet come.

It would have taken a much stronger man than Kakashi not to obsessively adore the sight.

He said so in his own way.

“You look good like this.”

The adoration was apparently dual-sided, because Iruka slid an intoxicated look over to Kakashi and then brushed his palm and fingertips across Kakashi’s bare knee bent at his waist. His declaration purred out drunken, obviously not thought through. His dark eyes fixed on Kakashi’s entranced expression as he announced, roughly unrestrained, “You’d look good riding me.”

_Mmm. Such fine ideas, sensei._

Feeling casual and careless himself, Kakashi allowed a smile across his lips, the sight of which Iruka visibly enjoyed, turning his head straight and studying his maskless face with fascination. 

“Oh yeah?” he asked aloud, pleased with both the thought and attention. But soon he fell back, wanting to give Iruka proper space and provide each of them comfort. The sensei immediately tried to move, but the position became awkward, the two of them being too close, with nude limbs, drying come, and disheveled hair. Shinobi were not often this clumsy except in such situations, so both tried to cover themselves instinctively. Still, Kakashi found himself amused as Iruka crowded him against the mattress, unable to figure out the right way to stand and pull up his pants at the same time.

However, after all that they’d just done, Kakashi suddenly felt delicate and dumb again with Iruka boxing him against the bed.

He blinked in surprise as Iruka bumped noses with him on accident.

They stared at each other awkwardly.

But then –

But then the embarrassment melted away all at once. It wasn’t clear who made the first move, or if both of them did, but they leaned towards each other, sweet and easy, and they finally kissed, at first softly. This time when Iruka wrapped his arms over Kakashi’s shoulders, he slid his hands down into Kakashi’s high turtleneck, reaching to caress his nape, fluttering the silver hair there. The action stirred Kakashi into doing what he wanted to do, too, which was folding the man forward and stretching his hands across Iruka’s naked back, yet again reaching his scar. 

He wasn’t at all surprised when Iruka huffed a laugh against his lips, pausing their kiss, and peered upward at him, very close, cozy, and comfortable. 

“You like my scar?” Iruka playfully wondered, twirling Kakashi’s silver hair between two fingers.

Kakashi trusted his instincts from the ramen stand: he leaned into the other man, repeating the endearing nose-to-nose kiss Iruka had initiated earlier in the evening, and confessed quietly, “Actually, I like _you.”_

Even though Kakashi had been certain he hated the heavy pressure of another person’s body against his, and he hadn’t expected more than a cheap quick dinner tonight, nor anything ever with Iruka, the purest joy possible surged through him when the sensei admitted, smiling so very sincerely at him it made Kakashi feel soft-hearted, “I think I might like you, too.”

And so their evening continued, filled with moments of adoration and mutual worship…


End file.
